The rising sun
by AVeryMerryUnbirthdayToMe
Summary: Sometimes nothing in life is certain (except for Jack).


**Authors Note: THAT WAS SUCH A TENSE EPISODE.**

Nikki knew she was meant to be asleep as she lay on the hospital bed. Sleep was a difficult thing to achieve; several machines around her were constantly beeping, the hallway was bustling and the constant presence of armed guards outside of the door wasn't doing anything to dissipate her anxiety. In fact, the only comforting thing she could think of was Jack currently sitting by her bedside. He wasn't in her line of view because she was nervously fixated on the door and the guards, and this suddenly became an issue. Nikki felt a new wave of anxiety rush over her, and tried to push it away. In the end, she decided that her need to see Jack was more important than her need to watch the door, and she turned onto her opposite side so she could face him.

Jack looked rough. That was the first thing that she noticed. His eyes flickered from the door to her face as it came into view.

"You're meant to be asleep," he reminded her softly. He thought she had been asleep up until now, but considering how stubborn Nikki was, he realised that he was a fool for being so hopeful. Of course she hadn't slept, and Jack didn't think he could either.

"I was wrong."

Jack frowned slightly, "About what?"

"The sun. It didn't come up this morning."

Oh. Part of Jack, the logical part, knew that the sun had risen that morning (obviously). But, he could see what she meant; there had been a heavy darkness and a sense of hopelessness surrounding the situation until Nikki had managed to get out of her literal coffin. She couldn't see the sunrise from beneath the earth, nor the hope it (normally) brought with every new day. Instead, she had been encompassed by a crushing darkness, and that darkness was only just starting to lift.

"You'll end up seeing tomorrow's sunrise if you don't get any sleep," he opted for returning to the subject that Nikki had so obviously tried to avoid.

"Every time I close my eyes, I'm back there," Nikki admitted after several moments of silence, "I can't sleep, Jack."

It almost sounded like a plea, and Jack felt a heaviness settle in his chest. There was an urge to do something, anything to make it vanish. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, looking at the bed then and Nikki before replying:

"Right, shuffle over then,"

"What?" Nikki wasn't sure if she had missed a key point of this conversation or if her brain was genuinely breaking down from the trauma. The latter made her nervous.

"You won't get any sleep by yourself, and neither will I," the admission of fear was more downplayed than Nikki's, but she still noticed it, "so move over and let me lie next to you."

Ah. Nikki understood now, and she moved her body closer to the edge of the bed. It was a small bed, but she reckoned that it might just be able to accommodate both of them (even if it wasn't designed to). It took a few minutes of shuffling around, carefully placing Nikki's various wires and lines out of the way, before they settled into a comfortable position. Jack had his arm around Nikki, pulling her into his side and making sure that she didn't fall out of the bed. She let her head fall onto his chest, which wasn't as soft as the pillow but definitely a more favourable alternative, even if it was only because she could hear his heart. A heartbeat meant life, and life meant everything to her right now. She was almost lost in its rhythm until Jack spoke.

"I'll have to move when the doctors ask me to, though," he reminded her, because this was still a hospital, and Nikki was still a patient.

"No you won't," it was the most Nikki-like and defiant thing he had heard her say since the whole situation began, and he felt somewhat relieved. Yet her hand gripped the cotton of his shirt tightly, as though he was about to move at any moment.

"No I won't," he agreed, letting his hand rest against hers.

There were two certainties: the sun would rise and Jack would not move. He prayed that whichever doctor found their sleeping forms wrapped in one another, they would be kind enough to leave them alone.


End file.
